


Stains

by prototyping



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, General, Hurt/Comfort, Post-RE5, all that good stuff, all the RE6 foreshadowing, this fandom needs less porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't always open up about her past, but he's willing to listen when she does. Chris + Jill, post-RE5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stains

The heavy door was thrown open in a sudden shove, ignoring the stopper that had long since become useless and slamming back against the wall, hard. The echo rattled the two rows of lockers, but as usual, Jill was the only one utilizing the women's room and no one was present to witness her outburst. She undressed as she went, tugging off her hat and tossing it at the bench -- she missed -- and starting to unbuckle her belt with fingers that were less coordinated than usual. The agitation cost her and she bit back a curse as she broke a nail on the clasp.

Back at the entrance, a hand caught the door right before it could close and pushed it aside, hurriedly but lacking Jill's anger. Chris moved inside without pause, having bypassed the men's locker room to follow his partner. He was still dressed in full field gear, guns and all.

"Jill--"

Her head twitched in his direction, but these days Chris was aware that it was as likely to have been a reflex as it was a conscious reaction. She ignored him otherwise, shaking her hand as if pained before forcefully pulling her belt free and tossing it down.

"Jill," he tried again, stopping just outside of arm's reach of her, "it's okay. You did fine--"

"No." She shook her head but kept it down, her voice curt and forced. "Don't do that to me, Chris. Not now." She exhaled sharply as she stripped off her empty leg holster, planting her boot on the bench a second later to remove her knife.

That was probably her hint for him to shut up and get lost, but Chris stayed. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries; she'd been through too much recently and he respected her need for space, just like he'd respected her need for his company when she wanted it, and he knew Jill and her cues well enough to guess which she preferred at any given moment. Right now, she clearly wanted time to herself -- but he'd given her a lot of that lately, even against his better judgment. Maybe if he hadn't, today would have gone better. Maybe he could have prevented this.

He didn't move.

"Listen, Jill -- you know I'd never lie about this. Not even to make you feel better." His tone was firm and earnest, but not unkind, and he leaned a little to try and catch her gaze. She avoided it. "I'm telling you that you did fine," he repeated. "Most agents wouldn't even be back on the field for another three months, and I'd bet you anything that anyone who tried to jump the gun wouldn't have made it halfway through today. They sure as hell wouldn't have finished it, or kept it together long enough to--"

"I _didn't_ keep it together, Chris!" Jill slammed her locker open with too much force, causing it to bounce closed again. She slammed it a second time, holding it in place, and her eyes finally met Chris' in a blaze of bright blue. "I froze up!" she snapped, voice rising. "I know we still accomplished the objective, I know we made it out fine, I know it could've been worse -- but I still froze, and I can't--" Turning away, she stared into her locker for a long moment with unseeing eyes. Chris didn't interrupt.

"I don't... know if it was a one time thing or not," she said more quietly, calmly.

Chris shifted his weight, frowning. "You can't push yourself--" he started gently, but Jill shook her head vigorously.

"As long as I'm in this line of work, I'm pushing myself. We all are, and you know that as well as I do."

That was too true to argue, even if it wasn't quite what Chris had meant, so he said nothing as Jill unzipped and slid out of her jacket. That left her in her close-fitting black top, and he noted again how skinny she looked. Not dangerously so, but she still hadn't made up for lost time. Her white arms remained lean with strong muscle, her shoulders held high even in this moment of frustration.

As he debated a response, Chris crouched to gather the equipment that had fallen on the floor. "Yeah, but there's a difference between pushing yourself to do your best and pushing yourself to the edge," he said solemnly, his voice even. "We've seen both." He set her things on the bench and stood up again, casting Jill a look to gauge her reaction -- only to stiffen slightly in surprise as she pulled her shirt over her head without comment, exposing her toned stomach, visible ribs, and tight sports bra, in that order. He averted his eyes, although not as quickly as he could have. He'd seen her in just as much once before, when she'd been shot during a mission and he had to tear her top open to staunch the bleeding. That had been decidedly different, however. Now, he wasn't sure if this was also her way of trying to drive him off... or if Jill was even really aware of this kind of thing anymore. Going by the blanks he'd had to fill in about her recent past, there was a good chance of the latter.

"Yeah, well. Sometimes the line's not that clear." She did, at least, turn away before pulling her bra off, and Chris took that cue to turn on his heel and give her some more space. She had every right to be frustrated. He knew that, and with anyone else he wouldn't be so stubborn about arguing the point; but this was Jill. In all his life he'd never known anyone who kept such a level head under the kind of horrible pressure that they could (and usually did) deal with. If she was exploding like this, it was well-earned and a long time coming, but it also meant that something inside her had finally cracked. Maybe it was just a small one, but all the same it was a fissure, somewhere, and that wasn't like her.

Then again... after Kijuju, and Wesker, it was more troubling that she _hadn't_ erupted before now. Anyone else would have. Anyone else wouldn't return straight to being a Spec Ops Agent for the B.S.A.A., but she had.

Chris was glad his back was turned, because the look on his face right then was one he hadn't worn since the Africa mission.

About a minute later he heard the locker close, and then turned to see that Jill had finished changing. She was in jeans and a loose T-shirt, the latter a couple sizes too big but still unable to hide some of her curves. Attributing that thought to the fault of having been flashed a moment ago, Chris ignored it.

Jill was actually the first to speak, although she kept her eyes down as she leaned against the lockers. It occurred to Chris that he hadn't seen her look so down in years.

"...I'm sorry. I'm not... I don't mean to whine. I'm not perfect -- I know that. Just like I knew there was a chance I was jumping in too soon. But..." Sighing, she reached up to let her blonde hair free from its usual ponytail, shaking it out in a motion that looked frustrated. "... _God_ , Chris--" Jill closed her eyes as her arms dropped a moment later. Her voice had dropped to a near-whisper. "I just..."

She chewed her bottom lip, which wasn't like her at all, and then suddenly broke into a fleeting, bitter smile. "I can't make up for what I did. Ever. But I can't help it -- I still want to _try_ \--"

"Hey, hey..." Chris matched her volume as he stepped in closer, gently grasping her shoulders. She felt small and fragile under his large hands, but he knew better. "It's okay. I know you do -- you're too good a person to feel any other way."

He wouldn't argue with her about her guilt issues; they'd had that talk before and he knew that her psychological scars ran too deep. She knew not to blame herself entirely -- so she said -- but she refused to shirk all of the responsibility, as she rightfully could and should have. Even so, Chris was the only one who knew that much about her and he knew how to talk to her.

"But you've gotta be careful, Jill." His voice was low, patient, and as gentle as his grip. "You won't be doing anyone any favors if you go getting hurt because you're in a rush. I hate sitting on my hands as much as you do, but sometimes that's all we can do." He cracked a grim smile. "We've done plenty of that over the years, right? We're pretty much experts now."

"I know." It was an acknowledgement, not an argument. "I know it's bordering on reckless, and I know I'm being ungrateful after everything you did to get me out of there."

"That's not--"

"Yes, it is," said Jill firmly, finally opening her eyes to meet his. "I'm not just putting myself in danger when I act this way. I'm not thinking of you, or the mission, or what the Alliance stands for -- I'm just trying to wipe my own slate clean even though I'll never--"

"Those sins _aren't yours_ , Jill." Chris' voice gained an edge, a hint of anger, although none of it was directed at her. His hands moved up to hold her face, an emphasis on his honesty as well as an effort to keep her from looking away -- from blocking him out again. "I know you won't let yourself believe that. If I knew what to say to make you believe it, I'd hold you down and keep saying it until you hated me -- but I know it's not that simple. But I can't just let you punish yourself for the things he did, either."

Jill made no response, but he felt her fingers at his sides. He didn't make a move either way, well aware of her mixed reactions to physical contact, but he didn't have to. Slowly, she bowed her head and leaned into him, and he soon felt her slender arms on his back. Exhaling heavily, Chris returned the embrace and settled his chin in her hair. "It's okay," he murmured, the same way he'd done for Claire when they were kids during a thunderstorm, again when they were teenagers after their parents' deaths. But Jill, of course, wasn't his sister, just like she wasn't crying or shaking. She would hold it all in like she always did, presumably finding some manner of release when the rest of the world wasn't watching.

As tempted as he was to keep on reassuring her, Chris stayed silent, figuring he'd said enough for the moment. That seemed to be the wiser choice a minute later, when Jill drew back with a quiet nod and a stable, collected air. She was all right now, emotions back under control, and the easy pat she gave his shoulder was her confirmation. Chris took the hint and let his arms drop, but he didn't back down just yet.

"You really going to be okay?"

"I will be," she assured him with another nod, crossing her arms over her stomach. "One day."

At least she was being honest. Regardless, Chris' frown stayed. "Yeah. I know you will. But if it takes longer than you think, don't rush it. You're allowed to think about yourself every once in a while, you know."

The corner of Jill's mouth twitched for an instant, but she hid it with a sigh. "You probably do enough of that for both of us," she pointed out a little wryly, but Chris didn't buy the impatience in her voice for a second.

"Hey." He nudged her hip lightly with a fist, his own smile small but open. "I gotta pick up your slack. That's your own fault."

"Right." There was an obvious touch of sarcasm in her reply, but it managed to sound a bit resigned all the same. She was stuck with him, after all, so she might as well accept it.

Figuring it was as good a time as any to get changed himself, Chris stepped around her -- but paused as he drew even with her, sending her a sidelong glance. "The B.S.A.A.'s not going to leave you behind, Jill," he said gently. "Neither am I." Not professionally, not personally. As far as the two of them were concerned, there was no dividing line anymore, and Chris knew she felt the same.

This time Jill did smile, if a little sadly. "...I know."


End file.
